Dad, Daddy, Father
by Ivy Kendall
Summary: Two friends meet on the beach, and they discuss what is and what could have been.


The wind blew along the coastline, whipping her hair into her eyes and wrapping it around her head. She tried to contain the strands, but only half-heartedly. Her mind was someplace else and the curtain created by the wind seemed to aid in shielding her private musings.

The day always did that to her. Years ago, when her children were old enough that she could leave them alone for an hour or two, she began taken this time to herself. The day was loaded. Loaded with memories and dreams and broken promises. Loaded with poor choices and even poorer understanding of what she wanted years before. Many times she tried to forgive herself the follies and incomprehensions of youth, but there was always one sticking point... she hadn't been that young. She wasn't sixteen when she had met him. She was well into her twenties. And she had travelled before school, so she had seen the world...

... she thought she'd seen the world.

Cries of seagulls always brought her back to reality. There were no answers to be found, even with the smell of salt and the rolling of the waves against the shore, symbolically taking out the old and bringing in the new. It was always just the same. She had chosen poorly and she needed to let that go.

Sharon turned to leave, when something caught her eye. The wind whipped her hair away and there, not far from her, sat someone who was quickly becoming her best friend.

"It's not the Atlantic, but I guess it can do the same thing," he smiled up at her as she lowered herself.

"What are you doing here, Andy?"

"Ah...well... probably the same thing you are," he tried to smile, but she could see it didn't go all the way to his eyes."

"Loaded day," was all she said. In front of her a man walked by with two small children, his shirt looked home made with handprints all over, and the unmistakable child's script saying "I love my Daddy".

They sat silently for a few minutes.

"You know those tacky things in stores right now. World's Best Dad mugs and shirts?" he said to the wind, and did not wait for her to respond, "I used to look at those and wonder what it would be like if they were true. I never got one of those."

Sharon patted his arm. She understood. "I tried to buy one once. I must have picked it up and put it down a hundred times. I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie to my kids like that. They had a horrible father, and it was my fault."

"Hey," he nudged her shoulder, turning to look at her for the first time, "don't do that to yourself. You never know what a guy is going to be like until it happens, until he becomes a father. You can't predict those things."

"Mmm... can't you? I knew what I didn't want. I used to look at fathers who played with their kids, and then I'd look at my father. He loved us... he still loves my sister and I, but he was never a 'Dad', you know what I mean? He was always a 'Father'. When we were in trouble, we had to see our Father. When we failed at something, we had to see our Father. I just wanted a Dad, not always a Father. That's why I thought Jack would be perfect. Smart, charming, played with kids at the beach, seemed to enjoy the fun in life. I thought... you know... I thought there, that's the kind of man I want to build a family with. Someone who would laugh and play, not stand in silent judgement or work all the time and never be around. Joke was on me."

Andy nudged her shoulder a bit more, "My dad died when I was a kid. It was Ma and her sisters, and an uncle here or there. But you know, Irish men were always drunk and Italian men were always talking about sex or sports. At least that's what it seemed when I was growing up. My dad was Irish, my uncles Italian. It didn't matter, though, 'cause both of them taught me to how a man was supposed to drink, not how a man was supposed to live. I was surrounded by women who made excuses for them, and just carried on. They did it all, and sure they complained, but that was what everyone did so how was I supposed to know that wasn't the way to go? My ex wasn't so much into making excuses."

"I did... made excuses, I mean."

"You still do."

"Mmm..."

The waves continued to roll in and out, bringing seaweed and pulling it back again. More people were coming, some only to walk, but others sat, either alone or in groups. Men sporting t-shirts that bragged of their fatherhood seemed to be everywhere, mocking the pair.

"How many of those are the real deal, do you think?" Andy broke the silence after some time.

"What do you mean?"

"Those guys, how many of them are like me or like Jack?"

"Don't compare yourself to Jack, Andy. You might have started out in the same place, but you made different choices. Are you going to see Nicole and your son today?"

"Yeah... later, but listen, I'm serious. How many of those guys are just putting on a show today and their families are so desperate for it to be true they go along with it? What's a father anyway? I mean yeah... you've got that whole 'made a kid', thing, but are these guys involved? Do they know the names of their kids' best friends? Can they say their favourite colour?"

"Jack bought football tickets for the kids one year, he told them he was going to show them a real sport. Cathy cried for hours."

"Real sport?" Andy growled, "she's a ballerina, right? She already had a 'real' sport."

Sharon smiled, "Was Nicole into horses?"

"Nah... she liked the water... dolphins. Still can't get enough of the ocean. One year I took her to Florida and she spent the entire week in the water. I started calling her 'Prune'," he chuckled. "She spent the ride back trying to decide if she liked the Atlantic more than the Pacific. She still hasn't made up her mind."

"Ricky played baseball."

"Yeah... so did Danny. He still does."

"I wonder if they were ever on the same team," Sharon mused, her eyes watching him behind her hair."

"Nah... I don't think so. I'd remember that name and I don't think I ever saw it on a roster. I could be wrong, though. I wasn't around much."

Sharon stood, and swept the sand from her jeans, then reached down her hand to help pull him up. "You, my friend, were a far better father than you give yourself credit."

"I wasn't as good as I could'a been," he shook his head, effectively dismissing her words.

"No one is," she said, lacing her arm through his as they walked towards the parking lot.

They arrived at his car first. "Give my best to your daughter," Sharon smiled, pulling her arm away, "and your son."

"Yeah... yeah, I'll tell them. What are you gonna do?" he looked at her thoughtfully.

Sharon shrugged, "Oh I don't know... go home and call my kids, I guess. Call my father. The usual."

"Father's Day hard on them?"

"I don't know," she replied, honestly. "I think it's harder on me. The guilt gets to me. They can't miss what they never had."

"Yeah," he snorted, "I think about that a lot. You take care of yourself, okay?" he said, pulling his keys from his pocket. "I'll see ya tomorrow."

Sharon smiled and nodded, moving away as he got in, then left.

Her musings continued as she walked to her car. She had parked at the far end of the lot, wanting to walk as much as she could. On the way she smiled at those she passed, eager faces ready to spend the day with their fathers. A kiosk had been set up while she was on the beach, and as she passed she took a look. This time when she picked up the mug 'World's Greatest Dad', she didn't put it down. She knew someone who should have it.


End file.
